The Mark Of A Pirate
by rose of england
Summary: James Norrington is known as a man who upholds the law. So how did he get a particular mark on his arm and what does Jack have to do with it?
1. Questions

Disclaimer: As with everyone else, I do not own any characters from Pirates of the Caribbean. Shame.

Chapter One: Questions

James Norrington was having what was quite possibly the worst day of his life. Even worse than the day Sparrow escaped and Elizabeth chose William Turner over him. Not that Sparrow escaping had necessarily been a bad thing – he hadn't attacked any British ships since, and neither could he have kept Elizabeth in a loveless marriage, even if he did love her.

James managed keep his battered, bloody and bruised body upright and stagger to a deserted back alley close to the building he'd been unceremoniously thrown out of. Leaning heavily against the wall he let go of what little control he had over his body and mercifully welcomed the darkness, his last thought being to curse that stupid, naive Lieutenant.

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"'Ere mate, you all right?" The voice broke unnaturally loud into the blackness, lifting James groaning back to the edge of consciousness.

"Honestly", another voice broke in, "_does_ he look alright?" The voices sounded so far away to James it seemed to him as if they were at the bottom of a well. He cracked his eyes open a little in an attempt to see the owners of the voices but the effort was too much and all he glimpsed was a flash of gold before his eyes drooped closed again.

"Come on," the first voice said again, "we can't leave him here, it's not safe. Get the other side o 'im. Let's see if he can make it back te the ship." James felt two pairs of hand haul him to his feet and arms supporting him either side. Unfortunately, the few steps he managed to take drained him of the last of his energy.

"Quick – grab 'im. He's goin' again..."

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James came round slowly, his head throbbing and his whole body aching – hardly surprising when he remembered what had happened over the past couple of days. As he became more aware of his surroundings though, he realised the various wounds he'd obtained had been cleaned and bandaged and oddly enough, his right arm felt numb. James felt glad at that; it meant he didn't have to think about it and what lay under the bandage.

James suddenly noticed he was on a ship He was so used to the rocking motion of a ship he hadn't realised, hadn't even paid attention to the reflection of sunlight onto the cabin's ceiling. He craned his head to see where he was, wincing when that only served to remind him that his head hurt. That movement brought fresh pain in his cheek, which on inspection turned out to be a gash that had had to have been stitched up. He tried to sit up in the bed, the sheet sliding over his bruised ribs. If he was in a bed that must mean he was in the Captain's cabin, the only one on a ship privileged to have one. But whose cabin and ship?

"Ah. So ye're finally awake. Took ye time." The voice came from the other end of the table in the cabin, where the shadows hid the figure sat there. A chair creaked loudly as the occupant shifted their weight.

"Who are you?" James strained to see the outline of the man sat there.

"We'll get te that. In the meantime, there's a few things I'm curious about if ye wouldn't mind answerin" the man continued.

"Well then. That will depend on what exactly you're wanting to know" James countered. Whoever this man was, it almost felt as if he were playing a _game_ with him. The man outright laughed before he answered.

"Be grateful. Anyway, ye're lucky I found ye mate. Not many people around who'd help an unconscious dumped in a muddy back alley. Most'd just rob ye an' leave ye, but then," the man paused at this point as if for dramatic effect, "Ye've got that interestin' mark on ye arm. Is there a story behind it?"

James felt a flash of anger flare up from within at this mention of his arm. Logic broke through the fury though. This man could be simply curious as to how he had been injured; on the other hand he could be attempting to discover whether the man now in his 'possession' was worth anything. James was not yet sure whether he was going to escape from this situation.

"I'd prefer not to talk about that" James replied coolly.

"Alright, alright. No need te use that fancy upper class tone on me, Commodore." James felt a stab of alarm.

"I've no idea who you're talking about. You must be mistaking

me-" James attempted to deny, but was cut off.

"I don't mistake people, not when I've met them before, Norringtion." So this man even knew his name. James felt as if he might as well give up now. There was no point continuing with his business out here if this stranger knew his name and had, as of this point, shown no interest in keeping it a secret.

"Come now. Lost for words? I hope whatever ye were doin' out here ye disguised that fancy accent o' yours. Not get far out here with an accent like that." This apparently warranted a laugh, a sentiment James didn't share. Oddly enough, the voice did seem familiar- like that belonging to a person you hadn't seen in a while. Still, James couldn't place it despite the claim they'd already met. Or maybe the last few days were getting to him, hardly a surprise.

"As of the moment," James said, "it's really none of your business what I'm doing 'out here'."

"Again with the tone. I told ye Commodore, no need to get like that. Anyway, ye're on my ship, aren't ye? Means I've made it my business, and if under it all ye were really after me, then I'm surprised, Commodore. After all, I'm reliably informed that me 'one day's head start' passed a while back now."

James didn't need the shadowy figure to lean forward into the sunlight to now who his 'benefactor' was now. Captain Jack Sparrow. That at least answered the question of which ship – the _Black Pearl_.


	2. Aboard the Black Pearl

Thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate them.

I apologise for Jack's language at the moment, I haven't quite settled into what I want him to talk like yet.

And once again, I do not own any characters from Pirates of the Caribbean, I just like writing about them. If any original characters turn up, I _will _own them.

Chapter two: Aboard the _Black Pearl_

"Sparrow?" James said incredulously. The very fact that it was this man in particular set James off laughing. Sparrow rose from his chair and walked around the table to the bed James now occupied.

"_Captain _Sparrow. If ye're goin' to address me as that I'll thank ye te use me title. Ye all right mate? Maybe ye still delirious from that fever. I don't recall ye thinkin' me presence was so funny last time we were in acquaintance."

"No." James shook his head, which only served to remind him of the beating he'd taken. _The last time we were in acquaintance_. He knew for certain that just over a year ago he would have outright laughed at anyone who suggested to him that he'd end up fighting cursed pirates, at an island that no-one living could find. Except Sparrow, of course.

"No," James repeated, "I just find it ironic that you, of all people, are helping me." James stopped laughing then, when he remembered something else Sparrow had said.

"Fever? How long was I..." he trailed off.

"Does a man have to justify everythin' te ye? I, if ye haven't noticed, am not like most pirates. Ye may not believe me, but I don't find it the least bit amusin' te see a man in the state ye were. Ye've no need te worry 'bout the rest o me crew neither – none of 'em know who ye are, 'cept Gibbs, and I've told him te keep his mouth shut." Sparrow glanced out the huge stern windows before continuing.

"Ye've been out o it fer a couple o days. Had Ana-Maria in 'ere at one point since she knows a bit about nursin'. She weren't pleased 'bout it mind," he told James with a grin, "She was of the opinion at the time I was tryin' te shove her back in that rut that she sees as bein' a woman." Sparrow rubbed his cheek absentmindedly at this.

"We're not far off the coast o Cuba at the moment. Sailed away from Jamaica night we found ye." Again Sparrow glanced out of the windows, this time frowning at whatever he saw.

"I'll come back and speak te ye later if ye need me te. Right now it looks like the wind's pickin' up and I need te see what Ana's doin with me ship." With that, Sparrow strode out of the cabin and shut the door with a snap. Out at sea, it seemed, Sparrow's odd walk wasn't even noticeable.

James resisted the urge to fall straight back to sleep then, and waited a few minutes to be sure he was really alone. Then, despite the weakness he felt in his limbs, he lifted up his right arm to where he could see it before beginning to unwind the bandage. He had to see, had to know what the damage was. Done, he let the discarded bandage fall to the sheets and stared at the burnt skin on his arm. The skin that would now stay that way for the rest of his life, proclaiming for all to see, the letter 'P'.

_Pirate._

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James woke to the gentle rocking of a ship at anchor. He wondered briefly where Sparrow had harboured the _Black Pearl _before checking the bandage at his wrist; he'd re-tied it yesterday and then immediately fell into a deep sleep. He guessed he'd slept right through the rest of the day and through the night, and feeling a lot better for it, sat up to see the sunlight streaming through the cabin windows.

The door to the cabin swung open and a slim figure entered carrying a bowl and a mug. As the figure approached, he made it out to be a woman. So this was Ana-Maria. How ironic - a month ago he would have been shocked to see a woman dressed as Ana-Maria was and in such a profession as this. Now, it seemed, there were few things that fazed him.

Ana-Maria set the bowl and mug down on the table and turned to face him.

"Don't expect this treatment every morning just because _I _helped nurse ye," she told him rather fiercely. "Jack felt ye should have somethin' te eat brought te ye since ye don't know ye way around the _Pearl. _There's some clean clothes over here," she indicated a pile on a chair next to the table, "since I didn't think ye'd want te stay in the ones ye arrived in. Don't worry," she added with a hint of a smile, "I'm not goin' te watch ye dress. Those bandages could come off today though." She began to leave.

"What about the stitches?" he asked her. She looked back, then strode over to the bed to get a closer look at his face.

"Another couple o days fer those," she told him. "I want te make sure the wound's goin' te stay closed 'fore I take those out." She turned and left, shutting the door with a snap.

James swung his legs over the edge of the bed and removed all the bandages except the one tied around his wrist. He wasn't ready to show that one off yet. He pushed himself off the bed and made his way over to the table in a way that he suspected, to any observers, would look like a very poor impression of Sparrow. He found the pants in the pile and pulled them on before slipping on his boots and sitting gingerly down in the chair and inspecting what Ana-Maria had brought.

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Norrington had finished eating and had put the clean shirt on by the time Jack entered the cabin.

"Ah. Ana-Maria told me ye were up but I didn't quite believe her after ye lethargic performance o the last few days. I see ye ate the food then," he said to Norrington in his half mocking tone. Norrington started to glare at him before seeming to give up.

"Very funny. I'll admit I was expecting the worst of your food Captain, but it wasn't _too _bad." Norrington looked at Jack as if to gauge his reaction to this comment.

"Call me Jack mate. Everyone else does. Ye don't have te praise the food either, I'm well aware it's not the best in the world. Me ship mite be, but the food aint," Jack told Norrington.

"Well then. I suppose you can call me Adam. Well, my name's Adam Locke," was the response.

"Oh, so that's what ye're goin' by now, is it, Adam?" Jack goaded.

"It is for my business out here, and you'll keep quiet if you really want to know the reason." Norrington kept himself from rising to Jack's bait. Pity really, Jack thought.

"So there's a deeper meaning behind it all then? Not just another man wanting te be a pirate? Must say, didn't see it comin' from ye, _Commodore._"

"I am not a pirate."

"Funny, ye 'ad me fooled."

"I do have a valid reason for doing what I have, which – "James broke off then, as if sensing that Jack had been trying to get him to tell what exactly he was doing. Suddenly he sighed.

"Alright. I'll tell you. But you'll have to promise not to tell anyone. And I mean, anyone."

"No need te worry 'bout that. I'll not tell anyone ye precious secret. Don't matter anyway, me crew's off the _Pearl, _'cept for Ana and Gibbs, and ye'll not need te worry 'bout them hearin' anythin'." Jack looked around the cabin. It was incredibly stuffy in there, the heat making it almost unbearable to stay inside.

"Ye know what? If ye goin' te reveal all, ye might as well do it outside. There's at least a breeze blowin' and the fresh air will probably do ye some good."

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Ana-Maria watched as first Jack emerged from his cabin, followed by their newcomer, the Commodore Norrington. She recognised him alright; had done so when they'd stumbled upon him in that alley. She'd covered her shock well – Jack certainly hadn't noticed, and she knew for a fact that the Commodore wouldn't recognise her. She might be a pirate and had had to work twice as hard to get to her present position, but she'd managed to keep herself low on any navy's list of wanted criminals. Unlike Jack, the show off.

Which lead her to wonder what Jack was doing helping the man who, as far as she was aware, had arrested him twice and tried to hang him. It was because of this that she knew Jack knew whom Norrington really was, and that he must have silenced Gibbs on the matter too. If he hadn't, Gibbs would've once again told his stories of how he'd once served in the British Navy under the man currently standing on the deck of the _Pearl, _the man she recognise from her brief but numerous forays into Port Royal.

Ana could see him still wincing from sore muscles and barely healed cuts. She sighed, exasperated. Why the hell was she helping him? They were stood leaning on the deck rail and by all appearances were about to have some long conversation, but she cut in anyway.

"Why don't ye go for a swim?" She asked Norrington. Briefly she wondered what name he'd most likely given to Jack. "We'll be here a while - the crew's on shore at the moment, and besides, salt water will help those wounds of yours heal."

For a short moment she thought he did recognise her from the penetrating look her gave her, as though trying to place her face. Cleary it was just her imagination though, as he merely nodded and smiled at her, then walked, if a little unsteadily, further along the ship's rail.

"Jack," she whispered, nudging him, "ye'd better go to, don't ye think? Ye don't want him drownin' on us now, do ye?"

Perhaps it was just a shameless excuse to get Jack to take his shirt off, but she didn't care. Ana-Maria made no attempt to hide the fact that she was staring, first at Jack's well muscled chest as he took his shirt off, then when she noticed, Norrington's equally as muscled if not as tanned chest.

Ana shook her head. Sometimes she really _had_ to get control of herself.


	3. Revalations

Extremely sorry to anyone waiting for this chapter – I had a few things to deal with, and added to the fact that I already had the first two chapters written out left a bit of a gap between those and this one.

Raphe1: Is live journal the same as keeping a diary? I'd have to warn you I have a _really_ bad track record of keepin diaries. I do it for a bit and then I can't be bothered.

Anyway, hope this chapter lives up to expectations. If not, feedback is appreciated.

Chapter Three: Revelations

The cool water hit James with a shock as he dived into the water. Thankfully, the sea numbed his sore body, helping him forget the reason for their current state.

Unfortunately, Jack wasn't.

"So. Goin' te tell me ye story yet?" James opened his mouth to reply and received a mouthful of saltwater. Spitting it out, he answered Jack by swimming as many strokes as he could, almost the length of the _Pearl, _before admitting defeat and grabbing hold of a rope slapping the hull.

"Where'd ye learn te swim mate?" James spun to see Jack behind him, clearly not as tired as he felt and reaching out for a handhold on the hull. Was Jack trying another way of getting him to tell? He could simply be curious though – after all, how many people nowadays knew how to swim?

"My father was quite insistent when I told him I wanted to join the navy." James smiled at the memory. "He told me that 'no son of his was going to join that death trap known as the navy without knowing someway of getting himself out of it.'"

"Can relate te that mate." James looked up sharply at Jack, who shrugged. "No one likes te be caught on a sinkin' ship with no way off it. 'Spect that were what he were thinkin' of. And he still let ye join? How rich were ye?"

"What to you think my family was? Some wealthy family who could afford to send me off on a whim? Truth to tell Jack, we weren't. And my father wasn't too bothered about me joining."

James looked out across the sea.

"I'd always wanted to sail – my father was a merchant in Portsmouth so I'd grown up watching the ships come in, and I loved the idea of one day sailing in them. We had enough money that my father was able to buy me place as midshipman when he considered I was old enough. He had my elder brother to – "

James broke off, painful memories surfacing as he realised how much of his past he was revealing.

"I perhaps owe you an apology, Captain Sparrow."

"Fer what?"

"My attempt to hang you for no good reason other than my desire to rid the Caribbean of another pirate. For assuming you were the same as every other criminal out there. A man has to have his reasons I suppose, however pitiful they may seem." He turned away.

"Aye? And what would those be?"

"Are you sure you want to know Jack?"

"Oh aye. Love te know how ye mind works. And at least ye'll be givin' me answers te somethin'."

James considered Jack for a moment before speaking.

"The first ship I was posted on, the _Defiant, _sailed out to the Caribbean to hunt out pirates and, I suppose, generally protect British interests in these waters. As it turned out, the same time Richard, my older brother, sailed for Jamaica on some errand or other for my father."

James couldn't hold Jack's gaze anymore and dropped his eyes to stare down through the sea.

"Only, he didn't make it to Jamaica. Pirates attacked his ship off the coast of Hispaniola, and they weren't of the more gentlemanly type like you, Jack. They killed _everyone_ on board, even those who didn't oppose them taking the ship. I didn't find out until a year later when my ship arrived back in England. A whole bloody year!" he said, his voice shaking.

"Surely ye father tried te contact ye?"

"Oh he did. But I'm sure you're aware of the reliability of delivery in the navy, Jack. There were letters- I'll probably see them when I've retired, when it's too many years too late. Can you imagine that? Your homecoming, the news of your brothers death instead of welcome, the knowledge that your brother could have been just over the horizon? We may well have caught those that did it while we were out there, but I'll never know that either since no-one survived to tell who did it."

James looked up at Jack then, seeing not the scorn he expected to but rather sympathy. Sympathy? From Jack? He'd expected at the very least ridicule for such a reason as that for his hatred of pirates.

"I'm sorry 'bout ye brother James. But ye're goin' te have te put that behind ye and stop feelin' guilty bout it. Ye couldn't have known ye brother was in the Caribbean, just as fer that reason why ye couldn't have been there te protect him. 'Sides, I doubt he would have wanted his younger brother te run te his rescue."

"But if it could have saved him-!"

"There's no guarantee ye could have mate. Ye know what sea battles get like."

James began climbing the side of the _Pearl,_ head reeling. Jack giving out advice. He never thought he'd see the day it was given to himself though.

"I just don't want it to happen to anyone else, Jack. I don't want anyone else to go through what my family or I had to go through."

When he reached the deck, neither Ana-Maria nor Gibbs were anywhere in sight, a relief for the time being. He turned to face Jack climbing over the side. Jack looked around, mumbling something about Ana and Gibbs getting into his rum again.

"I know why you do it though Jack."

Jack looked confused.

"Not sure I'm followin' ye. We talkin' 'bout me rum now?"

James smiled slightly, an effort in itself after what he'd been talking about.

"It's the freedom, isn't it? That feeling you get when you're stood on the deck of a ship and for a moment it can feel like it's just you and the sea and you can go whatever you want to."

Jack looked surprised at this.

"Aye, for me it is. Though I didn't think ye of all people'd understand it. Aye, some people say I do it fer the spoils, and I suppose I do te some extent, but I think ye got it right there. Odd that – most of the other pirates think they know me. Unless ye've been talkin' te Elizabeth?"

"No. Why?"

"Nothin'. Just somethin' I said te her when we were marooned on that little island. Ye remember which one of course."

Of course James did. How could he forget? Investigating that thick pillar of smoke to find Elizabeth at the source and - much to his irritation at the time- Jack Sparrow along with her.

"No, she never mentioned anything about that island other than the opportunity to sample rum, before she burnt it of course." James struggled to keep the laughter out of his face as Jack frowned slightly at the reminder.

"She mentioned Gibbs, too. I must say, I was surprised to find where he'd ended up what with him spouting superstitions about pirates all the way from England."

"Oh aye, and what were those then?"

James did laugh then, bringing a dull ache in his cheek and fresh reminders of the stitches there.

"Put it this way. All fog is cursed, with or without black ships appearing in it, and merely singing songs about pirate can call them down on you."

Jack joined in his amusement.

"Aye, that sounds like Gibbs alright."

All that seemed to belong to another lifetime now. Things had changed immeasurably since then. James himself would never have been caught dead on the _Black Pearl_ at the time of that escapade, and yet, events seemed to conspire to bring him to the point where it didn't bother him.

Absentmindedly he scratched the brand on his arm.

"Ready te tell me 'bout that yet?"

James sighed. He supposed he had been dodging the subject.

"God knows you are persistent Jack."

"Course I am. How else do ye think I got me ship back?" Jack said with his characteristic golden grin.

James nodded at Jack's own arm, at the wrapping that concealed Jack's own brand.

"What about yours? All those stories, and I don't remember one of them explaining yours."

"Ah, so ye've heard the stories? From Elizabeth I expect?" James nodded at this. "Well there is actually a great story behind this too, but I want ye side after this – I aint tellin' this fer nothin'."

"Fair enough." James replied.

"Ye see, the one an' only time ol' Jack here was caught be the East India Company, those that consider themselves all high an' mighty didn't think I was worth wasting their time with – I was only suspected of piracy, they couldn't prove anythin'. So when it came te brandin' me, they got one of their newest junior officers to do it, and well, he was all set on brandin' me on the forehead. But-"he said with one of his wild hand movements, "I managed to convince him that, what with him being new an all, didn't he know that the East India Company branded on the arm, not the forehead?"

James couldn't help but laugh at this – it just seemed too absurd.

"Why didn't you try to escape? You must have been planning it."

"Oh, I was. But unlike our little enounter, there was nothin' handy fer me te use te get away. They did the brandin' right there in the jail, so there was nowhere fer me te run te. So I settled fer havin' the brand where I can hide it. I don't know if ye've noticed, but I'd be pullin' me bandana down a lot further if that 'P' were on me forehead."

Jack grinned at this point, prompting James to wonder if the story really were true.

"How did ye know te look on me arm fer that though?" Jack asked him.

"Oh that?" James gave him a grin of his own. "Stories can backfire on you too, Jack. I simply paid attention to rumours of a pirate who wears his black hair long and has a tattoo on his arm of a sparrow in flight, who went by the name of Jack Sparrow."


	4. Recollections

A/N: Ok, extreme apologies for the time it's taken this chapter to be updated. The only thing I can plead is the heavy amount of schoolwork I was given combined with holidays. Anyway, I'm on my way with the next chapter so it shouldn't be too long before that's up (I hope).

Any ideas for a chapter title would be greatly apreciated - I really couldn't think of one. Oh, and as for any mistakes I've made, it'd be appreciated if someone tells me. Perhaps getting a Beta would help.;)

Thanks to all my reviewers! **Canis Majorius: **I can only apologise about the title. I really wasn't aware that you had a story by this name. 

* * *

Chapter four -

Jack had a look of slight disgruntlement on his face.

"Ye know, if I hadn't o' heard the words straight from ye mouth, I'd have never believed that." He broke into one of his characteristic grins. "Whoever heard of an officer of his Majesty's navy listenin' te the gutter rumours."

"Sometimes you can't afford to ignore them, as I'm sure you well know," James replied.

Jack inclined his head in agreement, then began gesturing in his wildly erratic way.

"So. How about it then. Ye goin' te have te tell me at some point, else I'll find out about it meself when we put inte either Tortuga or Port Royal."

"You can't put into Port Royal…" James paused. "Oh. Right." Jack wouldn't have to sail _into _Port Royal, merely drop anchor in one of the many bays in the immediate vicinity of the town. He'd known that some how Jack had been visiting Will and Elizabeth, but he hadn't quite figured out where he'd been berthing his ship.

"Come on then, mate. I aint got all day."

James smiled at Jack's impatience, enjoying the small power this piece of knowledge gave him, for once, over Jack.

"Well, surely you've heard of the new pirate threat in the area?"

"Ah, yes." Jack smiled. "Being dubbed the second Black Pearl down in Rio." The smile disappeared. "Pity it was Barbossa that got the Pearl to leave her mark."

James shook his head. Over a year later and it seemed Jack still had the shadow of Barbossa hanging over his head, something Will and Elizabeth hadn't picked up on.

James looked out to sea, thinking back over the weeks. "Well, I suppose the whole affair started with when I was ordered out of port some weeks back…

_> > > >_

_Somewhere in the Caribbean Sea, one month earlier…_

"_We therefore commit their bodies to the deep, to be turned into corruption. Looking for the resurrection of the body when the sea shall give up her dead and the life of the world to come, through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen."_

_Norrington snapped shut the Bible he was holding, watching blankly as the pallet was lifted by the two seamen and the shrouded bodies slid from under their covering of the Union Flag and into the cold ocean._

_If only he'd been in the _Dauntless_, instead of patrolling in the little frigate that had been sent to replace the lost _Interceptor_, the _Athene_. If only they'd met that phantom of a ship under more favourable conditions._

_He made a conscious effort to bite back his anger. He'd learnt long ago there was no point in playing 'what if?', though it didn't stop him from thinking it. It never changed anything, no matter how much you wished it._

_The simple fact was that they'd been beaten by a ship larger than theirs and they'd had to run. He smiled grimly. But not without putting up a fight first. However small._

_He'd been ordered out of Port Royal by Vice-Admiral Sir John Thorpe, currently flying his flag from a three decker, the _Pegasus_, docked in Kingston. The admiral had arrived a bare few weeks earlier, sent to take over from Norrington as the senior officer of the_ _Jamaican squadron. Evidently the Admiralty thought a higher ranking officer would do a better job._

_Norrington had, of course assumed he would be taking the _Dauntless_ since at his rank she was **his** ship. The admiral however, insisted that he take the _Athene_ instead, saying he wanted a quick scout of the immediate area, and the _Dauntless _despite her firepower, would be too slow to be effective. Why send him in charge then? Surely Captain Arnett would have been able to handle it?_

_Though Norrington would never be the one to say it, especially to his face, by God how the admiral misjudged the situation._

_It had come out of nowhere. The unknown ship that had been plaguing ships and settlements in the area. It was all starting to sound horribly familiar to Norrington; already rumours were spreading of who it was. That the_ Black Pearl _was at it again; that Barbossa himself was behind it all; that some unknown pirate deemed himself 'worthy' of succeeding Barbossa's legacy. Of course due to the current animosity between England and France and Spain it could be a privateer of some sort._

_His first thought had been that it was Jack Sparrow, that that head start had been one of the biggest miscalculations he'd ever made. But any survivors had told no tales of a ship with black sails, no mysterious fog had sprung up, and neither had Sparrow, from what information he could gather, attacked any English ships of late, nor been in the vicinity._

_But for Norrington, the whole incident had become personal. Not only had it attacked ships of the King's navy, it had attacked St. Kitts, the island where his sister Eleanor and her husband, George Barrington lived. Had lived, in the case of George Barrington, killed in the attack and leaving his widow with yet another to grieve over. Briefly he wondered if he should fetch her to Port Royal, where he would at least be able to keep a closer eye on her._

_But Norrington had had to run from the very person who had done that to her. True, they'd put up as much of a fight as they could, but that didn't get away from the fact that in the end they'd had to run._

_"Captain Arnett, prepare to weigh anchor. Set topsails and courses." Outwardly Norrington was as calm as he'd ever been, but inside he was livid, seething at the thought of running from those pirate bastards._

_"Aye sir," Arnett answered, striding away to give orders._

_"All hands prepare to weigh anchor! Hands aloft to take out sail!"_

_Norrington glance up at the flapping masthead pennant._

_"Set the t'gallents too if the wind lightens anymore," he ordered._

_Norrington watched grimly as his orders were relayed to the waiting seamen, who swarmed up the shrouds in their haste to comply with the Captain's order. Others rushed to the capstan with the bars, and throwing their weight against them, slowly began to turn to the accompaniment of a penny whistle._

_He hadn't realised just how much he missed being in command of a frigate. Even now, when he was merely giving out orders and not strictly in command. Of course, talk to any officer of flag rank and he'd tell you to savour the freedom and speed of such a ship while you could. He let the feeling wash over him, lessening his anger somewhat._

_ > > > >_

_They couldn't have done more than a mile nor gotten up to the kind of speed Norrington would have liked before they were interrupted yet again._

_"Deck there! Sail ho off the Larboard bow!"_

_Norrington snatched up a glass and trained it in the indicated direction. It wasn't hard to find. A brig coming up on the horizon, all canvas flying, making it quite obvious it was there. Clearly her commander was confident. As she crept closer the red ensign flapping from her stern became visible. Ah. One of theirs then._

_"Mr Goodwin," Norrington addressed the Lieutenant of the watch. "Signal them to identify themselves."_

_The signal flags flew up the yards, to be quickly answered. The midshipman in charge of the signals consulted his book rapidly under the gaze of his commanding officers._

_"She's the _Hermione_, sir, Captain Briggs commanding." As he spoke more shapes flew up the _Hermione's_ yards and broke out in the wind._

_"Signal sir! _Hermione_ to _Athene_. Heave to, dispatches on board."_

_He sighed. This had better be important if the admiral wanted him to complete his patrol of the numerous islands under the watch of the Jamaican section of the Caribbean squadron. Perhaps orders had finally come from the main fleet at Antigua._

_"Very well. Captain, heave to and take in sail."_

_"Aye sir. All hands about ship! Off tacks and sheets! Prepare the mains'l haul!"_

_> > > >_

_Norrington took the unopened letter below, thankful for the use of the Captain's cabin while aboard. Oddly enough, the letter was accompanied by a package of some sort. Satisfying his curiosity, he broke the Admiral's seal, skimming the formalities of the opening of the letter. His eyes however, snagged on a certain word, and he re-read that part of the despatch._

_'…to proceed with all despatch to the isle of Tortuga, whereupon you will attempt to discover the perpetrators behind the recent attacks on English ships and colonies. You will transfer to the brig Hermione where you will be taken with all haste to l'île de rochers. Here a ship is arranged for your final passage into Tortuga._

_Tell no-one of this except the Captains of the _Athene_ and the _Hermione_. If it need be known it is to be told you are being temporarily transferred to the fleet at Antigua.'_

_He sat down heavily behind the tiny desk in the equally tiny cabin, his mind reeling from what he'd just read._

_Why had he been chosen? Was there any particular purpose to it? He had a certain command of languages – his father had been insistent on that too – but that couldn't be the sole reason. Playing on his desire to protect friends and family maybe? Or was he still seen among those at the Admiralty as merely a poor merchants son, managing to do well for himself and therefore expendable?_

_He resisted the urge to screw up the letter clenched in his fist. He'd need it to explain the situation to the other Captains and leave orders for them, and for that he needed his temper under control. He sighed, rubbing his eyes, realising with a jolt that he couldn't have slept for at least a day or so. Damn pirates._

_He strode to the door, and opening it, ordered the marine sentry, "Pass the word for Captains Arnett and Briggs."_

_He turned away, hearing the order echoing through the ship. Moments later there was a clattering followed by the marine's announcement of the arrival of the two captains._

_When the door had closed behind them he faced the two men, studying them. Of the two, Arnett he knew best. After all, he'd been posted in Port Royal for the past year, whereas Briggs was only seen occasionally, relaying orders from the headquarters at Antigua._

_"Gentlemen, I have received fresh orders concerning the current situation concerning the attacker."_

_Both men perked up at this, Arnett exclaiming, "Finally! Something decisive I hope, sir?"_

_"Well, I suppose that depends on your point of view, Paul. Our superiors have seen fit to send me 'undercover' as it were, to Tortuga." He let this piece of information sink in, and judging by the stunned silence, it wasn't going in too well._

_It was Briggs who broke the silence. "Tortuga, sir? That must be madness!"_

_"Nevertheless that is the destination chosen by our superiors. I am to transfer to the _Hermione _and you are to convey me to l'île de rochers." He resisted the urge to pace the room. He wondered if either men spoke french. Island of rocks. Indeed, there was nothing else there other than the small fishing village. "There it is assured a merchant brig under the pay of the admiralty will convey me the rest of the way." He added._

_He paused, looking out the stern windows at the light dappling on the surface of the rippling sea, at potentially the last sunset he would ever see from the cabin of a vessel of the royal navy. Good God, he was being morbid already._

_"A night transfer would be best, I think. It is to be known that I have been temporarily re-assigned to the fleet at Antigua, Paul. William, when you have taken me to my destination you are to return to the fleet at Antigua. Do not tell your crew openly but when I come aboard your ship, but they are to think I am a passenger the _Athene_ had been transporting elsewhere."_

_Neither man wore a look that betrayed any sort of ease with this new set of orders, but both knew there wasn't a thing they could do about it._

_He looked between the two men. "You have your orders. I want both ships ready to make sail by eight bells. Paul, I'll give you written orders to take to Port Royal in the event I don't return." He saw the shocked look in the other man's eyes. "I know I don't sound optimistic about coming back but we should be prepared for such an eventuality. In any event Captain Groves is to be in charge of the garrison until my return, or the admiral sees fit."_

_He dismissed the two men and sat down heavily in his chair. Apart from preparing there was something else to do._

_Eleanor would be stubborn about it, especially in light of her husbands recent death, but he'd rather she move to Port Royal for the immediate future. At least she wouldn't be isolated at that damn plantation._

_In some ways that was ironic. If her husband had been at the plantation where he was supposed to be and not in port drinking away his money he would still be alive. Still, what was done was done._

_He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and reaching for his pen_.


	5. Recollections pt 2

Apologies for anyone following this for how long it's taken me to update... and the inevitable spelling mistakes that seem to crop up not matter how many times I read through the chapter.

And once again I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean etc...

* * *

Chapter 5

"And then what?"

"What?"

"Well ye can't just leave it on ye writin' a letter te ye sister, mate."

"I'd have thought you knew the rest Jack. After all, you know about this ship don't you?"

"I know _of _the ship mate, but I told ye, I've been sailin' down Rio an' South America. Don' know a lot o' what's been goin' off but what frightened Spaniards can tell me. Which ain't a lot te tell ye the truth. An' besides, might 'ave picked ye up on Jamaica - "

"Actually I've been meaning to ask you about that. What were you doing there?"

"Could ask ye the same question mate. Heard on me way back up te Tortuga there were a rum run goin' on. Thought I'd stop by an' ave a look – not 'ad a decent drink since I left. Nasty stuff what they make down there."

James smiled slightly. "Well you were right. Except we got caught."

"_You _-?" It wasn't often someone surprised Jack, but evidently James had managed it.

"Yes. Only way to get people to trust you in Tortuga is to get involved in their business unfortunately, and one of the only things open when I arrived in Tortuga was to join a gang of rumrunners. Sometimes even that doesn't work. The only solid thing I've found out about this ship is that it isn't just targeting British, or even French or Spanish. It's going after pirate ships too. The funny thing is though, I thought nobody in Tortuga would care."

"Well they would be. S'like the _Pearl_ all over again, back in the day an' no one knew who'd be next. 'Spect ye remember what it were like."

James unfortunately did. He'd seen too many good ships lost, both merchant and navy when the _Pearl_ had been under Barbossa's control and now it was happening all over again.

> > > > >

_James and the two others that'd survived the capture of the smuggling party were dragged through the dark streets to what passed for the jail in this town._

_Only once had James tried to run for it, encouraged by the others of his party, and he'd paid for it. He'd bolted around a corner and straight into a returning squad of marines._

_The marine sergeant promptly swung the butt of his musket across James's face, splitting his cheek and dazing him to the point where the marines had beaten and kicked him until he'd managed to get to his feet again._

_When he bloody got his job back he'd be having a word with the officers in charge of the law in this town. He never encouraged this sort of behaviour in the marines in Port Royal, and had hoped it didn't occur out of his sight either until he came here. Perhaps he'd been to naïve and idealistic._

_The three of them were tossed into separate jail cells and left alone. Three people. Just like the three buried at sea not too long ago._

_Well, here was a position he'd never been in, on the other side of the bars. Not much different from those in Fort Charles._

_He tore up some of his shirtsleeve to attempt to stem the flow of blood from his cheek and waited, listening to the flow of talk from Peter and Walt._

_"Maybe we could…"_

_"Nah. Never work…"_

_"What if…?"_

_Was this all that pirates talked about in jail? Means of escape? Or would it soon degenerate into desperation?_

_He gingerly felt his ribs. He was no surgeon, but his best guess would be that he'd wake up tomorrow covered in bruises. Only time would tell if the marines had caused any serious damage._

_They were left alone long enough to watch the sunrise, and watch its course through the bright blue Jamaican sky. James shifted himself out of the glare filtering through the bars on the 'window'. Clearly they hadn't decided what to do with the three of them yet; dawn was the usual time for hanging and that had passed hours ago. Still, the only way of knowing the passage of time was the sun, and James was an experienced enough sailor to roughly tell the time from it. About midday, they were graced by the company of two marines, bringing the basic rations of bread and water._

_James stirred himself._

_"You." He bluntly addressed the marine placing the bowl next to his cell. The marine glared at him._

_"Look, all I want is to speak with the officer in charge here. I have something I need to tell him." The marines looked at each other dubiously._

_"**Now**." He added in a more commanding tone. Something more suited to his days as Commodore._

_It seemed to convince the marines though. The two of them left as though they'd been ordered to._

_"Ye know Adam, when ye want to, ye really can put on a fancy accent. Anyone'd think ye really were one o' them." Walt gestured viciously in the direction of the door._

_James merely smiled and leaned his head back on the wall of the cell._

_ > > > >_

_It was several hours before the marines returned and hauled him from his cell. He was dragged through the hallways and into a small office with its window facing out to the West and a magnificent view of the deep red of the setting sun. A small fire flickered in a hearth despite the lingering heat of the day, and casting odd shadows around the room._

_He'd have never have thought it would happen but he'd actually spent the entire daylight hours of a day inside a cell._

_James faced the man seated behind the desk in front of him. A mere Lieutenant, but then this town was only a small garrison and didn't require the attentions of a higher-ranking officer. He glanced up as James was prodded into position in front of the desk._

_In truth, James was starting to think this wasn't such a good idea. He'd been sat down in a cramped position all day, and truth be told, he hadn't exactly recovered from his beating the night before. Consequently, he was swaying slightly on his feet before this man._

_"Well? What is it then?" The Lieutenant demanded._

_"I don't suppose it's too much to ask to speak with you alone?"_

_"You guessed right, pirate. Now hurry up, or I'll have you sent back to your cell and it'll be the gallows for the lot of you tomorrow."_

_Tomorrow? Damn. He thought quickly. God only knew how to say this._

_"Look, there's been a big misunderstanding. I haven't done anything wrong. I'm James Norrington."_

_The Lieutenant gave a small, mirthless smirk worthy of himself just over a year ago._

_"Nice try, pirate, but I'm not so easily fooled. **Commodore **Norrington is away in Antigua at the present time. Who are you?"_

_James was unable to keep his temper in check and slammed his fist on the desk. He was immediately dragged back by the marine guard._

_"But that's the point! I'm not away in Antigua, I'm under orders and I'm **here**!" The Lieutenant nodded at the marines, one of which immediately cracked him round the head with his musket, the other kneeing him in the stomach while he was dazed and causing him to double over._

_"Now." The Lieutenant said. "I'll ask you again. Who are you? What is your true name?"_

_Seeing no choice, James croaked out, "Adam Locke."_

_"There. That wasn't so hard was it?" The Lieutenant said, nodding to the clerk James hadn't noticed in the shadows of the corner of the room._

_"He's not here. No warrents, no prices." The clerk told the men in the room._

_The Lieutenant sighed. "Then I suppose we'll have to let him go."_

_Nothing but relief spread through James, and feeling a little guilty, he wondered what was to become of Walt and Peter._

_"Wait." The Lieutenant said. James felt apprehensive at what was to happen next._

_"Brand him first."_

> > > > > >

James stopped.

"Aye, tis painful ain't it?" Jack said nodding in understanding.

"Well, it's not just that… they decided I'd not been 'roughed up' enough the first time around before they let me go." Then, off Jack's look added, "Don't worry – when I get back everyone in that place is going to get a nasty surprise when I get back to Port Royal."

"Now that's something I'd like to see." Jack countered, a slight smile on his face.

"Right then," Jack said moving off. "Best be letting you get some rest or I suspect I'll have Ana to answer to." James let out a laugh.

"I wasn't aware she cared so much for my well being."

"I'm not sure how much she does, but even she knows it won't be good if Commodore Norrington disappears in the Caribbean on a pirate hunt." Jack told him.


	6. Nightmares

Sorry this took so long, but RL decided to interfere and I haven't been able to write for a while because of it. University's finished for the summer now, so while I do get to write I am going to be off for the next two weeks.

Usual, don't own PotC etc...

* * *

Chapter Six: Nightmares

_…the glowing brand descended, red as the raw skin it was about to create. Creation and destruction, all in one._

_Hissing as the hot metal connected with unwilling flesh, but no noise did James Norrington make. Oh no. He screamed in his head though; screamed at the injustice of it all, that one Lieutenant, eager to please, did not recognise his superior for anything other than a pirate._

_Had he really fallen that far? Descended so deep into the pit of what he had once despised that he could no longer be recognised? Or did he create the impression amongst his officers that any suspected pirates must be apprehended, to the point where the junior officer failed to look past the rough exterior he'd created around himself?_

_Richard yelped in the darkness, in pain as the cutlass bit into him again and again. James struggled to save him, but some force kept him at bay. His sister Eleanor stood by, glaring, accusing of him._

_"Why don't you save him James? Too busy playing pirates to save your own brother?"_

_Another voice joined hers._

_"I brought up no son of mine to behave in that manner. You might as well be out there killing him too." John Norrington said coldly._

_Richard screamed, one final time._

James jerked awake, sweating, staring up into the dark, feeling his hammock swaying with the motion of the ship. He'd gotten used to the motion of a ship, any ship, over the course of his life to the point where he always felt it harder to sleep on the land. He'd had to try and get used to it though since his promotion to Commodore; more often than not his duties kept him on land, and besides, a Commodore couldn't sleep on a ship, not when he had a house or a cot in the fort.

His hammock swung in time to a particularly violent swell. Jack had requisitioned back his cabin when Ana-Maria had declared James fit enough to assume shipboard duties.

So here he was, once again berthing with the sailors of a ship. He'd certainly never thought that would happen again after achieving his promotion to an officer, first a Lieutenant, and then his progression through the ranks to the one he now 'held'. Not that he minded the ordinary ship work though, since his father had always taught him to take his share of the work in whatever he did.

Thoughts of his father reminded him of the nightmare he'd just had, and he quickly pushed those from his mind.

Jack had told him they were heading back to Tortuga. The best place to gather information, he said, especially concerning what James was interested in. The crew had spent upwards of a month sailing foreign waters though, so he suspected a visit to Tortuga was more than just for news. Especially for Jack.

He wasn't terribly sure why Jack was helping him. After all, he hadn't shown him much in the way of kindness on their last meeting. That had in fact been one of his first questions when Jack informed him of their destination.

_"Me crew has family and friends in this part of the world, as do I. 'Sides, anythin' I can pick up too is goin' to be an asset te meself an' me ship. In this line of work, I find it's best to know what you're goin'to be up against, 'specially since whoever is behind it all seems to have no problem with who he attacks."_

James though, wasn't so sure about returning to the island. After all, that was where he'd joined that ill-fated smuggling venture.

_"Won't they wonder why I'm the only one who escaped?"_ James had asked Jack.

_"Nah. Happens often enough in the smuggling trade, 'specially with a new 'un on the crew. Usually how it operates, see? Not all the gang'll have te dance the 'jig then, an' they can carry on with they're business an' the like."_

_"Won't they want me to go back then?"_ James had been worried.

_"Not to worry. Ol' Jack 'ere knows 'em. I'll have a word, tell 'em you've joined me crew. They're not like to argue anyways, not with the Pearl and me crew backin' me up. Likely they'll not be too bothered – s'long as you don't tell all they're in's and out's."_

_"But I don't know anything!"_ James had protested.

_"That's the spirit."_ Jack had replied.

The other crewmen didn't seem overly troubled at James's presence either. Jack had apparently informed the crew that he and 'Adam' were old friends, and he was nothing to worry about.

He rubbed his cheek absently, feeling the tender skin left after the removal of the stitches. He didn't doubt Ana's medical knowledge or her nursing skills, but she hadn't been particularly gentle removing the stitches.

When no-one had been around, James had stolen a look in a cracked mirror discarded in Jack's cabin. At first glance, the same face peered back at him, but then he took a second look. Yes, it was the same green eyes, but now they stared back as if containing some secret knowledge. There was the scar running across his cheek; how was he to explain _that_ one away?

His brown hair was starting to grow out too – that was evident despite the fact that most of it was tied back. Without the opportunity to shave, the small amount of facial hair he'd grown was starting to look like he was attempting, at best something like William Turner, and at the very worst, something like Jack.

But now, as James lay in his swinging hammock, his thoughts kept straying back to the dream.

He knew there was no cause to keep torturing himself over his brother's death. After all, as Jack had pointed out, he couldn't have known his brother in the same waters, even less than being responsible for Richard's death.

And his sister. She'd taken Richard's death badly too. Badly enough to marry as soon as she could, perhaps to escape the pain of it. James was willing to bet though, that she hadn't banked on being brought out to the Caribbean with her new husband. Her husband had been a wealthy land owner in Cornwall, and she'd perhaps expected to be taken there. A quiet corner of England to bear away her grief in.

He'd almost requested a transfer when he'd found out the ship he was on was being stationed in the Caribbean. He didn't want to be responsible for another sibling's death. He'd quickly changed his mind though. He knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if something had happened to her and he could have been there to prevent it.

Far away, James imagined he could hear Jack's voice, probably on deck yet again to see what was being done to his precious ship. Jack hadn't turned out to be such a bad person as James had imagined, a surprise really even considering that he'd managed to impress both Governor Swann and William Turner.

0000

Jack called James to his cabin later in the day after he'd served out his share in the previous watch. James snapped off a lazy and almost mocking salute to Jack on entering the cabin, and was surprised to find charts spread across the great table.

"When you're done amusing yourself mate, I could use a hand." Jack smirked.

"I imagine you have all the navigating skills you need, Captain, without my assistance."

"Then might I suggest you take a closer look?"

James stepped up to the table. There were several charts covering the main Caribbean islands each, and a larger one lying atop the rest that depicted the area as a whole quite artfully despite the yellowing of its pages. This chart had a number of quite neat X's marked on certain islands that James recognised as the places that had been attacked, specifically towns and villages. He fixed his level gaze on Jack.

"You seem to have managed this well enough without my help as well."

"Aye, but you might know a thing or two about this, and besides, if you're wanting my help you're gona have to start pitching in now and again."

James turned his eyes back to the parchment, biting back whatever comment may have otherwise escaped his lips, trying to remember to respect Jack's authority as captain. He hadn't had time to plot any of the attacks all on the same map before he left Port Royale, and moreover, he'd only received details on the ones against the Empire's interests. Jack, it seemed, had added on those against Spain and France, as well as any native villages and small ports James didn't know about and theorised to be in pirate hands.

"Where did you get all this?" he asked incredulously.

"Asked around mate. Mostly while you were out of it. 'Sides, a few of these," he indicated those belonging to the natives, "are handy for re-supplying at a pinch." He seemed to take a second look at the chart. "And I'd appreciate you forgetting about those," flicking his fingers at those James guessed, and Jack seemed to confirm to be pirate. He knew it to be a compromise, one he wasn't entirely comfortable with despite everything.

"Never saw a thing," he said finally.

He wasn't sure what it was, but staring at the map seemed to afford him a sudden sense of what might be occuring in front of him. Maybe he could put it down to the lack of evidence he'd seen up till now. Maybe Jack had been distracting him, but he'd worked through worse before and knew that was no excuse. What he did know was that he saw a pattern before him with a sudden clarity that hadn't been there before.

"Look…" he trailed off pointing. Jack fixed his gaze on the yellowed paper, eyes widening when he realised what James meant.

"They all happen within a certain area. And if you follow that, then that, is next." James spoke steadily, while the world around him seemed to fall away and Jack said what they were both thinking.

"Port Royale."


End file.
